


Early Days

by Willa Shakespeare (AnonEhouse)



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Amnesia, Gen, Missions Gone Wrong, Stranded
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-05-11
Packaged: 2017-12-11 13:53:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/Willa%20Shakespeare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cally wakes to a stranger wearing a Federation uniform telling her to lie still. That's the last thing she's going to do. She doesn't remember what her mission was, and she doesn't believe the man when he says she knows him and that she was sent on a mission with him. But he knows her, and more important, he knows the location of a Federation base.</p><p>She may have forgot many things, but she knows how to fight the Federation. So long as she watches him, he won't be able to betray her. And if he does, there will be time to kill him first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Early Days

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

"Lie still."

The voice was harsh, and hands at her shoulders pressed down. Her reflexes took over. She kicked up, got her assailant in the groin, and flung the convulsing man over her shoulders to land with stunning force on the hard ground. She whirled, grabbed a handful of dark hair and pulled his head back, her other hand having already drawn her boot-knife to put at his throat. He gurgled, coughed, and tried to speak.

_Silence!_ she ordered. _You will die now, Federation scum._ Despite her words, she hesitated, disliking the necessity of slaughtering a man like a food animal without giving him a chance to fight for his life. She had done it before, and would do so again, but it was always distasteful. She glanced around. They were alone in a wild, rocky defile like so many others she'd used for her stalking grounds. No one would ever find him, unless they followed the predatory birds to his corpse.

"Call..." the man said, then coughed as her grip tightened, pressing him against the edge of the knife, the sharp edge just parting his skin. A thin stream of blood coated the bright metal.

_I said, be silent._ Cally's mind raced. This man knew her name. She could not kill him before she found out how he had acquired that information. She eased the knife away. _I will let you live a little longer,_ she told him, her telepathic voice fierce _How you die is up to you. Answer my questions, and I will make it quick and painless. Otherwise- I have learned much from your interrogators._ She frisked him, coming up with a hand-gun and a small roll of some sort of tools. She pocketed the gun and tossed the tools to one side, out of his reach, and glanced around. There was a Federation laser-rifle leaning up against the rocks rimming the small sheltered area they both occupied. She released the man, backed up and took possession of the gun. A quick check assured her it was charged, and fully functional.

The man rolled onto his stomach and got to his knees, gasping for breath. She examined him. He was not as young as she had expected. Generally, the older guards were not stupid enough to come within arm's length of her. She had earned a reputation among them, and they were wary of her. 

"Cally," he said, looking at her with surprise as well as anger. 

Why should the man be surprised? She lifted the gun in threat. _I did not ask you a question. Are you eager to die? Or simply too stupid to understand me?_ He positively glared at that, but did not reply. _Good. You are not a total idiot. I had begun to wonder. The Federation usually trains its men better. Who are you?_

"Don't you know me?" The astonishment in his voice sounded real; more, he felt astonished.

_You flatter yourself._

"My name is Avon. I'm not Federation," the man said. He rubbed at his neck, then looked down at his bloodied fingers. "Blake sent us both down on this mission. You've been injured, struck on the head. It must have given you amnesia." 

_A very pretty story. I have never heard of you, or this Blake. I do not believe you are a rebel._ Her head did hurt, but then the man had knocked her unconscious so that was only natural. He must have hoped to bring her in alive for interrogation, which meant they did not know she was the last rebel on the planet and it was pointless for them to interrogate her. All she could tell them was how much she hated them, which was hardly a secret.

"I don't believe I am either," the man said, sounding quite cynical. He lifted one hand. "But here we are. This is a teleport bracelet, and a communicator. Only Blake's crew have them." He emphasized the name Blake, as if he resented the man.

_Give it to me._ She was angry at herself for having overlooked the bracelet. 

He unclasped the bracelet, slowly, reluctantly, and tossed it to the sandy ground at her feet. "You're wearing one. If I'm not telling the truth, then how would we both have the same bracelets?"

Cally did not look down, but shifted part of her awareness to her wrists. There was something weighing down one arm. She ran the fingers of the other hand lightly over the object. Smooth, round, with buttons similar to the ones on the bracelet the man had thrown to her. _Perhaps you put it on me while I was unconscious._

"Why?"

She shrugged. _A trick of some sort. I don't claim to understand how human minds work._

"Well, now, if it was a trick, it doesn't seem to be working." He sighed. "Your name is Cally. You are from the planet Auron. You met Blake on Saurian Major and..."

_This is Saurian Major!_

"No." He shook his head. "This is the planet Visnoli, whose only claim to fame is the Federation experimental base, and the device they are supposed to have invented there." He scowled. "Blake believed it. You believed it. And I am stuck here with a homicidal alien who does not even have the courtesy to speak out loud. You are giving me a headache," he complained.

_I do not speak to the men I kill._

"Make an exception in my case. Bad enough to be murdered by my 'ally', without adding a migraine to it."

She cocked her head to one side, considering. "Very well," she said. "I have no taste for unnecessary cruelty."

"Ah. You are a rebel. A warrior. You don't enjoy killing, but you do it when it is necessary."

"That is true." She had not expected such insight from the enemy.

He shrugged. "Before you give me too much credit, let me say I am only repeating what you told me. Back on Visnoli base, when you would not kill an unconscious Federation trooper. This was before you were injured, and I was irrational enough to carry you to safety. I am justly repaid for my good deed by your kindness and trust."

"Tell me about this Blake." Cally still did not believe him, but she could not fathom the reason the Federation would create such an elaborate story just for her. Of course, it could all be this man's spur of the moment invention. He looked reasonably intelligent, and had already bought himself several minutes of life with his clever tongue.

"Blake is a rebel. He is, in point of fact, the rebel's rebel. He was very popular back on Earth. Until he was inevitably caught and mind-wiped, and set to lead the other sheep back into the fold."

Cally frowned. "If he is your leader, why do you speak of him as if you hated him?"

"He has a ship. Correction, he has one-third ownership in a ship that three of us discovered together. Jenna would deny him nothing, and, in his arrogance, he assumes that his cause gives him to right to command me, and my share of the ship. _Liberator_ is as much mine as his, yet I am treated like a common deckhand. 'Fix the computers, Avon, trot down to this miserable planet and check out this impossible weapon, Avon. Oh, and then blow it up, because I'm too saintly to use it.' The man is noble, and good, and self-sacrificing, which is all very well for him, but I find it tiresome that he doesn't mind in the least sacrificing me at the same time."

Cally shook her head. "I do not understand. If you are not a rebel, why do you not leave him?"

Avon puffed his cheeks and blew, making an exasperated noise. "Because he has the ship. We are all criminals. Except you and poor, innocent, framed, Blake. _Liberator_ is worth a fortune, and more, she is the only thing standing between each of us and death - or a life sentence on a penal planet, which would be worse. If I had left Blake, the chances were very good I would be picked up and tortured for information about his plans. Tortured to death, because I could not tell them anything, no matter what they did to me. The man trusts no one and tells no one anything."

"Does he know how you feel?" Despite herself, Cally was having doubts. The emotions coming from Avon were too sincere, the frustration and anger too honest, to be part of any story.

"I have made no secret of it. He doesn't care. He knows he has me under his thumb." Avon's fists clenched. "I can't fly the ship by myself, and our pilot loves him. We also have a dim-witted giant who believes all the suns revolve around Blake, and a cowardly crook who'd never back me in a takeover."

"Blake should put you off the ship," Cally said, firmly, before she realized that she had spoken as if she believed him.

Avon looked up and laughed. "Oh, but he has. Have you not noticed that we are alone?" His hands swept, indicating the surroundings. "Alone on this paradise. I've called the ship. There is no answer. It isn't there. The only surprising part is that he left you along with me. But then, it did lull my suspicions and he can easily acquire more rabid followers." He sat, rubbing his hands together, staring blindly into the distance. 

Cally was still, considering what he had said. After a long moment, she picked up the bracelet he had tossed her, and put it on her other arm, then she stood. "Get up."

"Why? Can't you kill me while I'm sitting? Or do you believe me?" He glanced at her. "Not that it matters much. We will both die here. There is nothing remotely civilized on Visnoli besides the Federation base. You may have sufficient survival skills to live off lizards and mud-holes, but I do not, even if I cared to try."

"Get up," Cally repeated, aiming the rifle at him. 

Avon pushed himself to his feet, wearily. "All right, I'm up. Now what?"

"Pick up your tools. You are a computer technician?" she asked.

"Yes, but there aren't any computers in the immediate vicinity, in case you hadn't noticed." He made no move to pick up the tool roll she had earlier tossed into the sand.

"You said this Blake had sent the two of us on a mission. What were we to do?"

"I was to erase the plans for the Visnoli weapon from their computers. And then you were to erase the Visnoli base from the landscape with the explosives you carry."

Cally nodded. "That seems straight-forward enough. Take me to the base."

"Weren't you listening? Blake has abandoned us." Avon's voice rose. "We are going to die here."

Cally nodded again. "Yes. But I see no reason to die alone. If there is a Federation base I will kill as many of them as I can before I die."

Avon's eyes rolled. "That's insane," he hissed. "I'll have no part of it." He turned, but the gun followed him. He stopped again.

"You must. I do not know where this base is. Besides, unless you can show me the base as proof that I am not still on Saurian Major, I will kill you now."

"If I show you the base, will that satisfy you?"

"It will prove that part of your story is true, but even if I were to believe every word you have said, I would still carry out this mission. You have admitted that you are a common criminal, and know nothing of rebellion. I will tell you this; I have not given my loyalty to a single person, but to the cause of freedom. If I am suffering from amnesia and have been abandoned by my commander that does not affect my loyalty or my duty. Even if your _Liberator_ is a fantasy, freedom is not. If there is a base you will come with me and do your share." Her eyes were flinty, unyielding. "I will attempt to protect you as best I can. It may be that there will be a ship you may use to escape. After you have completed your work."

"I take it you will not be leaving with me."

"You would not wish to share a ship with a rebel," she said, calmly. "You would either kill me or force me to kill you. It is entirely possible we would kill each other. I have sworn to die fighting the Federation; this place seems as good as any to me. If you help me, I will do all I can to see that you live."

"You are quite mad."

"No. I am quite sane. I simply believe in something greater than myself. I do not expect you to understand."

"No, of course not. You just expect me to die for your cause."

"Would you rather die out here, of exposure, of dehydration, of starvation, of the thousand ways a world like this will kill a man? Few of them are swift, and most of them are very painful. And there is no dignity or purpose in any of them."

"How poetic. You offer me a dignified, purposeful death. What a wonderful opportunity." Avon dusted off the seat of his pants, and bent over to pick up his tools. "I must remember to thank you and Blake later, when I meet you both in Hell. I'm sure he won't be long behind us."

"I am glad that you have the belief in an afterlife to sustain you," Cally remarked, with her best 'innocent' look. "I do not think I will be in this Hell of yours, however. My people join the Soul of Auron when our bodies are no more."

"Fascinating," Avon said, sourly. "Still, I'll think I'll get a message through to you." He started trudging through the sand.

***

Cally looked over the rock- and- sand- strewn slope. It was a Federation base, but it was not the communications center on Saurian Major, nor any of the smaller outlying facilities. That much of Avon's story was true. "Do you have any suggestions?"

Avon gave her a disbelieving look. "One. Let's get away from here and live a little longer."

"That is not an option."

"You walking in there like that isn't an option, either."

Cally looked at herself. She was wearing a plain worker's jumpsuit. Avon had on a Federation officer's uniform. It was a bit the worse for wear, but he still looked passably official. "Perhaps I can accompany you as your prisoner."

"Holding a gun on me? I'm sure that will be very convincing."

Cally opened the laser- rifle's breech and extracted the power-unit. She put it in one of the jumpsuit's many pockets, then handed him the rifle, after showing him that she still had a small gun in another conveniently placed pocket.

"Your trust in me is overwhelming."

"I should like to trust you, Avon." She gazed into his eyes. "I suspect that you would like to trust me, as well. I am sorry that we will not have the opportunity." She touched his arm, briefly. "I sense that you are not entirely as black as you paint yourself."

"Perhaps you are looking through rose-colored glasses. Most rebel optimists do, I've found."

"We are most likely going to die this day. Would honesty hurt so much?"

"Would it help?" Avon got up. "All right. This is the best plan I can come up with. It may actually get us inside the building before they start shooting. When we left, after I 'borrowed' the rifle from one of the guards who had no further use for it, I used one of your bombs as a distraction. It worked better than I could have hoped; in the confusion no one saw us. It will also have made it impossible for them to tell just how many guards we killed. You killed, for the most part. I will pretend to be one of them, a trooper Onar, returning in triumph with the rebel saboteur. Once in, we'll have to play it by ear."

"How do you know the man's name?"

"Ego. His. He wrote home, and included vistapes of himself slaughtering the local fauna." Avon grinned. "And in case you were wondering, yes, tampering with the Federation mails is a felony." He stooped, gathered a handful of dusty soil and patted it over his face, grimacing in disgust, then picked at the scabbed-over cut on his neck until it began to bleed again. He smeared blood around his face, working it into the dirt to mask his features in gore. "There. Now, the heroic trooper staggers home with his captive." He lifted the gun and grimaced fiercely.

Cally raised her hands, and began walking toward the building below. He shoved the gun into her back, making her stumble. "You are very good at that," she muttered.

"Thank you." He raised his voice. "Help! I've caught the saboteur!" He kept yelling and shoving her viciously as they went. Cally rather thought he was enjoying himself.

Troopers rushed out of the building when they neared. "Do you need a medic?" their leader asked, apparently staring at Avon's face. Cally stiffened, prepared to attack if the man grew suspicious. She could not see his expression, as all the troopers were wearing their helmets, and the mental atmosphere was so thick with anger and fear that she could tell nothing from her other senses.

Avon waved the man aside. "It's nothing." He grabbed Cally's arm. "She marked me some. Won't be able to send any pictures home to my girl for a while," he said, scowling. "And just when I had the biggest catch of all."

"Onar? You look like hell, I wouldn't have recognized you."

"Just let me get a little of my own back," Avon said. "Let me lock her up, and give me a little time to make her sorry."

The trooper's helmet moved, as he eyed Cally. "She's dangerous."

"Not without her friends. I followed them. There were a dozen of them, at least. This one was the bomb expert. She's nothing in a fight." He shook her, and Cally concentrated on looking helpless.

"She's a skinny little thing, all right." The man kept moving his head, looking nervously about. "A dozen more, you say?"

"At least. I think they followed us to get her back, but I didn't give them a chance."

"Fan out, men," the trooper yelled. He patted Avon on the shoulder. "You get her locked up, and then see the medics. I bet you get a medal for this, Onar."

"I'd rather a pay rise."

The trooper laughed, and trotted out with the rest of the men, leaving Avon and Cally to enter the building unescorted.

"That man did not follow official procedure," Cally commented quietly, once they were inside. People in laboratory coats were running around looking confused, and paid little attention to a wounded trooper and his scruffy prisoner.

"Did you expect Space Command spit-and-polish? This is the unwashed backside of the Federation." He pulled her around yet another corner, past a pile of rubble where green-faced workers were uncovering bits of bodies. No one looked up as they went past.

They followed color-coded arrows to the computer room with no interruption. The room was deserted, although clipboards and scattered notes proved that people had been working there recently. The door shut behind them with a cold finality. "Watch the door," Avon said, as he leaned his useless rifle against a console, sat down and began tapping commands into the computer. 

"Yes." Cally leaned against an alcove formed by auxiliary computers, took out her small gun and extended all her senses. For several minutes there was nothing to be heard bar the click-clack of Avon's fingers racing over the keyboard. 

"Ah," he muttered, "there you are."

Cally turned her head slightly, getting Avon in her peripheral vision. He stopped, hands raised, then slammed then down with a disgusted sound. He shut off the computer and stood up. "Let's get out of here."

"That was quick. You have already erased the information?"

"No." Avon bared his teeth; she wouldn't call that expression a smile. "Let the Federation have it."

"But..."

He whirled on her, and she brought up the gun instinctively. He held his hands out, spreading them to show his defenselessness, and she lowered it again. 

"It is a fraud. The administrator is either mad, or his subordinates are trying to get rid of him." Avon paused. "Or both. Once you strip away the cosmetic frills and hyperbole, the 'Visnoli device' is a duplication of an earlier experiment, which only functioned in theory." 

"Are you certain?"

"Absolutely. Any time and effort the Federation puts into this research will be a total waste. Much like our mission here."

"You could be lying," Cally pointed out, "Maybe you really are trooper Onar."

"Yes, and maybe we'll stand around arguing until they come to arrest us." He turned toward the door. "Unless you plan to shoot me in the back, I am going."

"Where?"

"The base does have a small space vessel. It's listed in the computer as being in good order, and ready for use. I have held up my end of our bargain, now I am going to attempt to find that ship."

"Wait." Cally pulled out the laser-rifle power-unit and tossed it to him. "You'll have a better chance with that."

Avon retrieved the rifle, snapped the power-unit into place, and aimed the gun at her. She didn't flinch. "Thank you. Aren't you the least bit concerned that I may turn it on you?"

Cally shook her head. "All I have to lose is my life. But if I am right, I will have gained a friend."

Avon lifted a eyebrow. "An ally. Temporarily." He turned his back on her. "Until I find the ship." There was a question in his voice.

She answered it. "I will not attempt to take the ship for myself. I gave my word you could go alone. I will remain here." 

"A good rebel to the end."

"Yes. I can only be what I am, Avon. As you can only be what you are."

Avon glanced back at her, and she smiled. He frowned.

***

The confusion in the corridors was dying down. Debris had been cleared away, body parts stacked as neatly as possible considering their non-standardized shapes, and idle workers paused to look at them. An officer stopped Avon who was marching Cally along with the rifle at her back. "Where are you going?"

"Putting the prisoner in a cell, sir," he replied.

"Security is that way," the man said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

"I must have gotten turned around," Avon answered, tugging Cally in the indicated direction.

"Wait!" the man barked. "Who are you?"

"Trooper Onar," Avon answered. "I've just..."

The officer's head dipped, and Cally followed the imaginary line of sight of his blank helmet. He was staring at a corpse which ended at the waist. The corpse had dark hair and eyes, and fair skin, but there all resemblance to Avon was lost. The features were twisted by death, but undoubtedly still recognizable to anyone who had known him. She felt the surge of emotion and fired, just as the officer lifted his gun. Dying, his hand clenched, loosing a wild shot. The workers screamed and fled even as Avon sagged against her, pulling her off-balance.

She pushed him off, and crouched, swiftly scanning the area, while sending a few shots after the workers to keep them running. Then she looked at Avon. He was grimacing, and holding onto his right thigh with both hands, blood welling up between his fingers. "How is it?" she asked, kneeling to retrieve his fallen rifle. 

"This has not been my day," was his reply. "Help me up." 

Cally got under his right shoulder and steadied him. Leaning on her and the wall he managed to get to his feet. He slipped, put weight on the injured leg, and went white. "Perhaps you had better take the ship. I don't think I'll make it."

"Lean on me. I am stronger than I look."

"This is stupid," Avon said, but he accepted her support, and they began walking together. "We will both die."

"That is no reason to surrender."

***

Fortunately, Visnoli base was small and they found the hangar before anyone else found them. Hangar wasn't exactly the word. That implies more than one ship. This was more along the lines of a very large room, occupied by one very small ship. Cally looked at it doubtfully. "This is it?"

"That is it." Avon pointed to the far wall. "That controls the roof mechanism." 

Obediently, Cally propped him up against the doorway, giving him the rifle as a crutch. She found the control, a simple on-off switch, and depressed it. The roof separated in the center and slowly ground open with considerable sound effects. She ran back to Avon, and helped him to the ship. "Hurry. They will have heard." She palmed the ship's lock open, took back the rifle, and turned. "Good luck, Avon."

"Don't."

"What?" She looked back, puzzled. He was standing in the lock, hand held out to her. 

"Don't go. Come with me."

Cally eyed the ship again. "It is very small."

"It's not that small. Besides, I need someone to take care of my leg."

"That is true." Cally considered. She could die here, and accomplish nothing more than the deaths of a few more guards, or she could accompany Avon and possibly live long enough to really hurt the Federation. "Very well. I hope you do not regret this later." She joined him in the ship. It did have two seats in the cramped control area. But not much else.

***

Take-off was unpleasant, a noisy, bone-rattling experience. Cally had ridden in many space-heaps in the course of her rebel career, but none of them had been this small. As soon as they broke orbit, she unstrapped herself and headed for the rear compartment. "I will find the aid kit."

"Optimist," Avon muttered. "Hurry. I'm not much of a pilot."

"Neither am I," Cally said, returning almost immediately with a small white box. 

"Marvelous." Avon stretched out his leg across the other seat, wincing. "In that case, you'd better work quickly, before I pass out."

Cally pulled out her knife and slit his trousers in one long slash. "Good. It is not too deep." She spread a large medicated pad over the expanse of burned flesh and pressed down firmly. He jumped, cursing. "Stay still."

"Easy for you to say," he gritted out, then clenched his teeth as she pressed another pad on top of the first. "Ah! Tell me, do you moonlight as an interrogator?"

"Only during the off-season," Cally replied, studying the wound. Blood was no longer seeping under the edges of the bandage. She secured the pads and lifted her hands from his leg. "Would you like a pain-killer?"

"No. Someone has to fly this beast. Later, perhaps."

"Where are we going?" Cally asked. She slipped back into the seat next to him, parted her hair, and placed a medicated pad over her own neglected injury. Her head still hurt when she was done, but perhaps she could stave off infection. She was lucky that Aurons had thick skulls or she'd be nursing more than a headache.

"Nowhere in particular. I hadn't gotten a chance to survey the neighborhood before Blake assigned us this pleasure jaunt. I have the communicator set to relay all messages to us. It's not difficult to distinguish between Federation and neutral communications."

"And if there isn't a neutral planet or ship within our range?"

Avon shut his eyes, wearily. "Then you had better look in that aid kit for something painless and quick." His head lolled back against the seat.

***

"Avon?" There was no reply. Cally checked that the communicator was still open, and that the ship was heading out into open space, then she followed his example. If they were to die while they slept, then they would die. If not, at least they would be rested for whatever would come.

She dreamed. Confusing, twisted images of Avon and the guards. Guns blasting, explosions, blood, screams and death. Always death. She saw the faces of her comrades from Saurian Major. Bloated, staring blindly at the sky that had betrayed them by raining inescapable Federation death. It was an old, familiardream. Even while she dreamt she knew it was a dream, irrevocably done and past, yet she still ran from corpse to corpse, and wept over them, and buried them, and swore over the massed graves that she would give them companions for their deaths.

"Wake up." Someone was shaking her shoulders.

Cally opened her eyes. For an instant she caught a glimpse of concern in Avon's eyes, but it was so quickly masked that she wondered if she had imagined it. "Sorry," she said. "Did I disturb you?"

"Oh, no, I'm used to people striking me across the face and screaming 'die, murderer, die'." He rubbed at a reddened patch on one cheek.

"I am not surprised," Cally teased gently. She was beginning to enjoy his warped sense of humor. "You do tend to bring out the worst in others."

"My first form instructors said much the same thing," he admitted, a slight smile flicking across his face. He shifted, and the smile faded. "If I had known it would lead to people shooting me, I would have mended my manners."

"I doubt it."

"You may be right." Avon ran his hand over his face, and sighed. "I intercepted several messages while you were sleeping. All Federation. Mostly from Visnoli base. Coded, of course, but you don't need to be a genius to deduce the contents."

"No. Why don't you try to sleep while I monitor the messages?" Cally was concerned. He had lost a lot of blood, and looked even paler now than he had before she treated his leg. 

He shook his head. "I find sleep elusive at best; under the current circumstances- " he said, shrugging, "impossible."

Cally picked up the aid kit. "I can make you sleep." She held up a single-dose pressure injector. "If you allow me."

Avon looked at the injector, then at her face. "Do it." He rolled up his sleeve, and sat, impassive, as she injected him.

"Thank you. I am honored by your trust," she said, as she put away the empty vial.

"Don't be. Trust had nothing to do with it." He sighed, and settled back into the seat, eyes shutting. "I have locked the ship's course, and communications. You can't betray me."

"I could have poisoned you."

Avon opened his eyes. "Considering the odds of reaching a neutral world in this limited range ship, even if I don't die of blood-loss, that might be a mercy. And it would be very unpleasant for you to share this ship with a corpse. You could space me, but then you would lose a great deal of oxygen when you vented the air-lock. More than I would use while I slept. I noticed you noticing the atmosphere gauges. It was a simple enough equation."

"Always logical?" 

"It is the only thing one can count on. Humans are too..." His eyes shut, and his mouth fell open slightly.

"Humans are too human. Yes, that is very true."

***

Sitting, staring into unchanging space speckled with unwinking stars, Cally felt herself falling into a near-trance state, and shook herself. While she couldn't do much, she could at least see that they were not recaptured. She had found a drug which would kill painlessly in sufficient dosage and prepared two injectors. Avon had already expressed his wish to die before capture, so there would be no need to wake him first.

On the other hand, there was no hurry. There was still the remote possibility of a neutral ship passing within visual range. If they had been transmitting a distress call, the odds would be greatly improved, but that wasn't possible with Avon's lock on the communications. 

She blinked. Had something changed? She brought the viewscreen's magnification up to maximum. Yes. There was a white speck, growing larger, without apparent movement, which meant it was headed directly toward them. There were no asteroids or meteoroids in their path; she had watched Avon make certain of that before he locked the ship's course. It was a ship, that was the only thing it could be. Her hand hovered over the two injectors. 

A loud chiming beep startled her. She ran her hand over the instrument panel, but found nothing amiss. The noise came again, and she realized it was coming from the bracelets she still wore. Avon had said they were communications devices. And something else. She was tired and her head still ached; she couldn't remember what their other function was. She put one bracelet back on Avon's wrist, wondering why it mattered, but somehow it felt like the right thing to do. 

She was sorry now that she had not taken the time to see if there was an antidote to the sedative she had given Avon. There was no way she could wake him and ask his advice. There were several buttons on the bracelet. She pressed a few at random. 

"Cally, Avon, come in!" She was startled by the depth of emotion in the voice that came from the bracelet. This man was worried about her, and her prickly companion. 

"Yes," she replied, hesitantly. "This is Cally. Who is that?"

"Cally, thank god," the deep voice came back. "A Federation patrol chased us halfway around the sector. How are you and Avon? Did you complete your mission?"

"I said, 'Who are you?' " She was suspicious. Perhaps the Federation had gotten Avon's communications' frequency. The man knew their names, but she wanted more proof before she committed them to docking with his ship. Once that was done, she would be helpless.

Another man's voice cut in, this one lighter than the first speaker. "What's the matter, Cally? Avon's been getting on your nerves? I told you, Blake, you should never have sent that poor girl down alone with him."

He didn't sound like a typical Federation officer. Still... "I repeat, identify yourself. If your ship approaches any closer, I will be forced to self-destruct." There, that should give them pause.

"Cally, what's wrong?" The deep voice again. "Don't you know me? I'm Blake."

That was the name of Avon's leader. Cally glanced at her peacefully sleeping companion. It was the right name, but was that really Blake? "Can you prove it?"

"For God's Sake!" the man was getting upset. "Look, will you just let me talk to Avon."

"He can't talk to you," she admitted.

"That's it," the man yelled, "Vila! Get them up here!"

The other man was whining, complaining about the danger. She strained to hear him. His voice was fading. He must be moving away from the transmitter. "What are you doing?" she asked, alarmed. The ship had grown large enough so that the details of its shape were coming clearer. It was no Federation ship she knew of, but then they were always designing new hunter-killers. 

Her head hurt; how could she think with all that noise? Abruptly, she felt dizzy and blinked, swallowing down a surge of nausea. She opened her eyes, and gasped. The dimly lit, cramped cabin of the little ship was gone, replaced by a white, brightly lit room larger than the control area she and Avon had been in. She was sitting on a cold, hard deck, with Avon slumped beside her. A nervous-looking man was just standing up from behind a long console of some sort. 

"Cally?" he asked. "Are you all right?" He craned his neck. "What did you do to Avon? Not that he didn't have it coming, whatever it was."

She stood up, knife abruptly in hand and stepped protectively before Avon. "Is this _Liberator_?" The nervous man stared, gulped and stuttered unintelligibly. She heard footsteps coming from one of the two entrances and turned to face it.  
"Yes, this is _Liberator_." The man who matched the deep voice came slowly down a few steps and stood, facing her, hands held open at his sides. "And I'm Blake." His eyes went down to Avon, then up to the bandage on her head. "I can see you had a hard time, but you're safe now. We need to get the two of you to the med-unit. Avon looks in a bad way."

Her head was pounding, and she was becoming increasingly more dizzy and nauseated. She wanted to trust him. He felt right. She looked down at Avon, and in that moment's distraction, someone came up from the other entrance and flung arms the size of tree-trunks around her. She struggled, but had no leverage. The knife dropped from her numb hand. The deep-voiced man came close, holding a round disk in one hand. His eyes were full of compassion. "This won't hurt, Cally, trust me." He brought the disk up to her forehead.

She flung her head to one side, but could not avoid the disk. Just before it touched, she said, "Avon's not a rebel. Don't hurt him."

"I won't," the man soothed, and pressed the disk to her face. It didn't hurt. Nothing hurt. She went limp.

***

Cally woke. She tried to get up, but found herself held down by straps to a flat, slightly padded surface. She looked around. A giant of a man was standing by a machine, apparently directing it. The man who called himself Blake was standing with his back to her, looking down at the occupant of another bed. Avon. It must be Avon."Blake," the giant called, "she's awake."

Blake turned to her. "You'll be all right, Cally. The med-unit has found the trouble." He patted her on the shoulder. "You need to sleep now. When you wake you'll remember everything."

"Cally?" The voice was faint but she knew it. Avon was waking up. She tensed against the restraints, waiting for him to tell her if she had failed again.

Blake turned back to Avon. "Don't try to talk, Avon. You're still weak."

"At least I'm not weak in the head. Easy mission. Vital. Galaxy-shaking discovery." Avon tried to sit up. She could see Blake give up on restraining him, and settle for helping him. Avon's eyes burned into hers and Cally relaxed.

"This is Blake?" she asked.

"Unfortunately, yes," Avon replied. Blake gave him a good-humored grin.

"Then we are safe?"

"I wouldn't go that far."

"Avon," Blake admonished. "Cally isn't well."

"She isn't delicate, either." Avon sighed. "Certainly not as delicate as I feel. Let me sleep, Blake. Let us both sleep."

"Yes, Avon. Gan?" Blake said as he helped Avon lie back down on the bed. 

"All set, Blake." The giant pushed one last button, and Cally could feel something cold creeping into her vein. She tensed again, then stopped fighting it. Avon trusted Blake. Avon didn't trust anyone, so Blake must be someone special. She carried that thought with her into her dreams.

And for once, they were not dreams of long past. She remembered Blake, and destroying the Saurian Major base. She remembered everything with drug-induced clarity, particularly her most recent memories.

***

> "We must do this, Avon," Cally said, her whole stance one of purest conviction. "It is imperative that the Federation not be allowed to acquire the Visnoli device. The base is lightly guarded; it will be a simple matter to infiltrate it and carry out Blake's plan." She, Blake and Avon were alone on _Liberator's_ flight deck. The argument over the mission had escalated to the point where the others had simply deserted the battlefield.
> 
> She couldn't entirely blame them. Avon had a talent for poisonous invective. The only way to counter it was to play innocent. His attack faltered when it met no direct resistance. It was the mental equivalent of an ancient martial arts discipline. She sighed internally. This group could use some discipline. They were all pulling in different directions. When Blake outlined this mission, it was apparent that she and Avon were best suited for it, and that it was important. 
> 
> Apparent to her and Blake only, it seemed. Vila wailed until he realized he wasn't involved. Gan just waited for orders, willing to accept whatever role he was given. Jenna sulked when Blake consulted Cally instead of her, although the problem was not in Jenna's realm of expertise. Finally, the others left for 'fresh air' as Jenna put it. Probably Vila had taken Gan off on another of his searches for potable libations while Jenna had retreated to the wardrobe room for further ammunition in her private war on Blake's virtue. She had first paused to give Cally an unfriendly look, then a significant stare in Blake's direction.
> 
> Cally was grateful to Blake for giving her life purpose once more and would willingly die for him, without wishing a more intimate relationship. Eventually, she would convince Jenna of that. Until then, she would do her best to keep them alive and to fight the Federation. Despite themselves. She gathered her patience, and tried again. 
> 
> "This is an opportunity we can not afford to lose."
> 
> Avon gave her a disdainful glance, then apparently dismissed her, turning to Blake instead. "Despite the assurances of your latest heroic recruit, I fail to see the attraction of this scheme."
> 
> Blake shook his head and said, "I'm disappointed in you, Avon. As a scientist, I'd expected you to understand more clearly than the others just how dangerous this invention is."
> 
> Avon held up a sheet of print-out, pinched between two fingers as if it was contaminated. "This farrago of nonsense? Grant me more intelligence than to fall for this simplistic trap."
> 
> "It is not a trap," Blake snapped, drawing himself up a bit straighter as he reacted to Avon's obnoxious attitude. "This message was one of the first we received immediately after installing the message decoder from Centero. They couldn't have known we'd intercept it."
> 
> "A lucky guess?" Avon sneered. "In any event, I cannot see the relevance. So the Federation has created a new method of wiping out the masses. They already have enough in their arsenal to exterminate the entire universe; Solium bombs, pathogens, plasma weapons, gasses and radiations galore with a plentiful supply of sadistic troopers to clean up anyone they happen to miss the first time around. We can't use this new weapon, and they can't use it against us."
> 
> "Just the rest of the universe."
> 
> Avon had started to turn away, but at Blake's bitter tone he turned back. "Precisely. When did I give the impression that I cared about the rest of the universe?"
> 
> Cally decided it was time for her to interpose herself again, before Blake responded as he was obviously aching to do. Avon wouldn't be any use in little bloody pieces. "Avon, you are wrong." That got his attention. "This weapon can be used against us."
> 
> "Not directly. It requires a mass of planetary dimensions. Against _Liberator_ , it would do nothing."
> 
> "May I?" Cally deftly took the paper from him, and glanced at it, for effect, having previously memorized its contents. "You have made a fundamental error. This device can be used against a planet, but it is not limited to that. Placed in the outer corona of a solar body, it would..."
> 
> "I did see that possibility," Avon interrupted, coolly, "but it seems impractical. While a missile could be modified to carry the device the ship that fired it would be vaporized as well as _Liberator_ and any stray planets that happened to orbit the target sun."
> 
> "And the Federation is too humane to do such a thing?" Cally stared into Avon's eyes, noting the slight flinch. As she thought, he was making excuses. He was afraid of something,but she didn't think it was the mission. He'd been nervous on Saurian Major, and Centero,but no more so than she would have expected from a green recruit. She said,"They would gladly sacrifice a mutoid-crewed ship in order to destroy _Liberator_ and Blake, and the threat that combination poses."
> 
> Avon's eyes narrowed. Probably he resented the implication that the Federation might dismiss him as harmless.
> 
> "Enough," Blake growled. "Avon," he said, pointing at the other man's chest, "this mission is on, whether you're with us or not."  
>  "You can't do it without me," Avon replied. "Admit it."
> 
> Blake crossed his arms and set his face in determined lines. "I do need a computer expert to erase the records beyond any possibility of recovery."
> 
> "After copying them, of course."
> 
> Blake shook his head. "No. No one should have that much power. No one is above temptation. I want the records gone. I want all traces eradicated from the universe, along with anyone who might know how to recreate the device. Which is why Cally will blow up the base after you've done your share."
> 
> "Ah," Avon murmured, "mass murder in the name of right. You are a true humanitarian, Blake."
> 
> Blake's face hardened. "I need a computer expert. It doesn't have to be you. I still have contacts among the resistance. If you want out, say so."
> 
> Avon went white. Cally wondered if it was anger or fear. It was impossible to tell from his expression. "Well, well, well. So that's how it shall be? I have as much right to this ship as you. Why should I risk my life to earn a place that is already mine?"
> 
> "You aren't an innocent, Avon. There are no rights." Blake took a deep breath, and then shook his head. "But I didn't say I'd throw you off the ship. I'd simply get another computer expert to handle the dangerous missions. And you could do whatever you please. Of course, the others might not think too kindly of you, but what do you care?"
> 
> Avon was silent for a long moment, then turned aside, hands clasped behind his back. "All right," he said, bitterly. "I'll go. Not because of your threats, but because your alien friend has a point. The weapon could be used against me. And," he paused, glancing back to meet Blake's eyes, "I will do whatever I must to protect myself. You should bear that in mind." With that parting shot, he stalked off the deck.
> 
> "That went well, didn't it?" Blake said to Cally. He shook his head. "I ought to have handled him better."
> 
> "He went out of his way to be offensive," Cally said. "I believe he is frightened. My people have a saying, 'a threatened ferbil argues with its spines'."
> 
> "What is a ferbil?"
> 
> Cally held her hands up and spread them measuring a space about four inches between. "A rodent with a coat of loosely attached prickles. As long as they are not frightened, they are quite docile. On Auron, children make pets of them to prove their emotional maturity."
> 
> Blake shook his head. "I don't think I'm emotionally mature enough to make a pet of Avon." He grinned. "Although it would be interesting to try."
> 
> ***
> 
> "Hey!" Vila yelped and tried to hide under his console.
> 
> "What's the matter with the idiot now?" Avon asked no one in particular, apparently not expecting an answer. He had walked onto the flight deck, his hands full of intercepted messages from the Federation base on Visnoli. Trivia, for the most part, but possibly containing that single germ of information that would keep him alive.
> 
> "It's only Avon," Gan said, bending down to see if Vila had injured himself in his panic.
> 
> "Oh." Vila got back to his feet with Gan's help. He frowned at Avon. "That get-up could give a man a heart attack."
> 
> Avon glanced down at himself. He was wearing a Federation uniform that Zen's clothing synthesizer had made to his measurements. He looked up, gave Vila a wicked grin and said, "A man? I doubt it, but a mouse, certainly." He breezed past Vila and tossed the sheaf of papers onto the table in front of Blake and Cally. "The more I study Visnoli, the less I believe a technological break-through of this magnitude has emerged there. There is not one scientist of any merit listed among their staff."
> 
> Blake smiled. "I take it you know all the best scientists in the Federation."
> 
> "I read the journals, and kept up on the competition, if that's what you mean. A man doesn't suddenly leap from the obscure to the genius level, unnoticed."
> 
> "Perhaps his previous work was all under security coding," Cally said. 
> 
> "There has been no work done in this field that could remotely lead in this direction," Avon snapped. "Something would have been published, no matter how speculative and tenuous the connection. If you don't lay claim to an idea, you lose the credit, and the credits. No one who's ever worked in a government lab fails to learn that lesson."
> 
> From her station at the pilot's position, Jenna interrupted, "We're entering the Visnoli system now. Do we go on, Blake?" she said.
> 
> Blake nodded. "We go on. Avon, if you think you can't handle it, then forget it. Cally and I will go down and take care of it."
> 
> Avon stiffened. "And what if you overlook a memory back-up, or fail to completely demolish the computer itself?"
> 
> Blake shrugged. "We'll plant extra bombs." He met Avon's agitation calmly. Cally approved. Avon was flustered.
> 
> "And if that doesn't work? No," Avon said, shaking his head. "I'm going. To make sure this job isn't botched." 
> 
> "Would you feel better if I went along?"
> 
> "Worse. Infinitely worse. It is not your fanatical fervor that I doubt, but your acting ability. I will be ready to teleport when we arrive."
> 
> After Avon left the flight deck, Cally glanced at Blake, and saw the twinkle in his eye. She decided Blake was a much better actor than Avon thought. 
> 
> Gan said, once Avon was safely away, "Are you sure he'll be all right, Blake? He's making an awful fuss about this."
> 
> Blake replied, "He just wants to be able to say, 'I told you so', if anything goes wrong."
> 
> Cally wasn't sure. It was a pity she couldn't read human minds. Something was going on in Avon's head, and only Avon knew what it was. Well, whatever it was, she hoped it wouldn't interfere with the mission. She rose, intending to join Avon in the teleport room, but Blake put a hand out to halt her. Quietly, he said, "Look out for him, Cally. It's early days yet, and you're the only one of us with real experience."
> 
> Cally nodded, curtly. She didn't need Blake to remind her that her only companion and her back-up were all fumbling amateurs, with the exception of Blake - whose rebel days were still clouded by Federation mind-wipe treatments. She was acutely aware of that fact.Still, it was better than being alone. Anything was better than that. 
> 
> Avon was sullen when Cally reached the teleport. She ignored him, while adjusting the bombs concealed in her nondescript jumpsuit. Actually, she was rather pleased to see him scowling in his Federation officer uniform. A bad-tempered officer was likely to draw attention away from a mere worker. With any amount of luck, the 'mere worker' could plant her explosives undetected. When she unzipped the jumpsuit neck in order to settle a recalcitrant bomb, she felt his eyes on her, and she paused. Imminent danger had a tendency to rouse a human's sexual urges, particularly male humans, she had noticed. She stiffened, glaring. "What are you staring at?" she snapped, angry more at his poor timing than anything else, only to discover that she had misread his intentions. He looked almost comically puzzled, then angry himself as he realized what she meant. Cally was appalled at her bad manners. Humans were contagious. "I am sorry," she said. "I thought..."
> 
> "It is obvious what you thought."
> 
> Blake chose that moment to enter the room. "Right," he said, "I have the coordinates for the base. Our instruments read a fairly large, open area that seems likely to be a storage facility. That's probably our safest bet."
> 
> "And if it's not?" Avon asked. "A _Liberator_ hand-gun would clash with this costume, I fear."
> 
> "I shall protect you," Cally said, producing a small handgun.
> 
> Avon blinked. "I won't even ask where you had that. But have you another?"
> 
> "Several." As a mute apology, Cally handed Avon the gun. 
> 
> "Someone will be at the teleport at all times," Blake said. 
> 
> "They had better be," Avon said.
> 
> "They will."
> 
> Avon stuffed the small gun into one of his pockets, and snatched two teleport bracelets, tossing one to Cally. "Well, if we are going to do this, let's get it over with." He took his place in the teleport alcove beside Cally, crouching slightly, with one hand hovering above the hidden gun.
> 
> The man was strung as tight as anti-personnel wire. Cally would have to watch that he didn't shoot her by accident. "Ready, Blake," she said, nodding. The last she saw of _Liberator_ was Blake's concerned face. 
> 
> "Down and safe," Cally reported to Blake, her senses stretched fine for danger. She could see little for the dimness of the room, but she was certain there were no enemies close enough to hear her. She was less sure where her companion was. "Avon?" she whispered. He should be on her right hand side, just beyond the reach of her fingers. She reached. And touched nothing. _Avon? Where are you?_
> 
> "Here." Avon's voice came from across the room, simultaneously with a light, blinding after the previous darkness. 
> 
> "What are you doing?" she whispered fiercely, striding over to him. 
> 
> "Just putting a little light on the subject," he said, smugly, hand still resting over the wall switch.
> 
> "No! It's probably hooked up to an alarm!" She lifted her arm, reaching for her teleport bracelet. "I'll have to call Blake and cancel the mission."
> 
> Avon was at her side so swiftly she blinked. He grabbed her arm. "Not yet."
> 
> She twisted, not yet trying seriously to escape. His grip was too firm for her to do so without seriously injuring him. The shush of an air-tight door opening froze them both for an instant, then Avon moved closer, arms wrapping around Cally. She didn't know whether he was trying to shield her, or prevent her from attacking. Either one was infuriating, but this was not a time for anger. She relaxed into his grip, reached up for his head and pulled him down into a kiss. Perhaps the illusion would work, provided Avon didn't snap her ribs in his shock.Steps came behind them, followed by a chuckle, and a man in Federation black, gun held loosely in his hand.
> 
> "Eh, found a cozy spot for a game of tickle an' grab?"
> 
> The voice was close. Cally looked past Avon's shoulder. The man came even closer. Abruptly, she kicked out, knocking the man's gun aside, then ducked Avon, and chopped the startled Federation officer hard on the neck. She knelt, and checked him. "Come on," she told Avon. "When he fails to report back, the whole base will be on alert. How long do you need to erase the records?"
> 
> "Not long. Once we find the computers." He glanced at the body. "He's not dead."
> 
> "It was not necessary," Cally replied, heading for the door the man had used. "We will be done long before he wakes."
> 
> "At which time, he will die in the explosions, anyway."
> 
> "Perhaps. But I am not a cold-blooded murderer."
> 
> "You could have fooled me."
> 
> Cally stopped, turned, and said, "I am a rebel. I am a warrior, if you like. I do not enjoy killing, but I do it when it is necessary. If it is necessary to you to kill this man, then do so, but hurry, or we will die while you argue about it."
> 
> "Squeamishness is not an asset in a terrorist," Avon muttered, but he stepped over the body and followed her out into a corridor marked by colored stripes at the intersections.
> 
> "Blue usually indicates computers," Cally said, pointing to one set of arrows. 
> 
> "I know. All these bases are laid out the same. The Federation's lack of imagination is terribly convenient for us."
> 
> _Quiet!_ Cally lost her temper with him again. He acted as though he were strolling through his own living quarters. She started off, only to have him increase his pace, dart around her and take the lead. _Avon!_ He heard her, she could tell from the way those black-clad shoulders stiffened. What was the matter with him? If she survived this mission, she was going to have a long talk with Blake about his computer expert. He was putting her in a very bad position. If she hurried to keep up, she could draw unwanted attention to herself. If she let him go on alone, in his present mood he was liable to get himself killed. Blake considered Avon valuable for reasons she could not fathom, and would be very disappointed with her if she let Avon's petulance cost him his life. _Slow down, Avon!_ she telepathed as distinctly as she could. She sensed humans, other than Avon, and tried to warn him. _Guards, Avon. Be careful._ But he was moving too fast, and she had been distracted so that her warning came late.
> 
> The guards had also been moving quickly, probably answering the alarm in the storage room, and met Avon while she was still several meters behind him. She broke into a run, feeling the suspicion rapidly changing to decision in the guard's minds. They were going to kill him. She would be left alone again, alone and a failure. Blake's trust in her would be broken forever. Damning Avon to Auron hell, she broke into a full run, screamed, and hurled herself into the air at his back.
> 
> Avon fell and the guards were momentarily startled into stillness. They were not battle-trained, just men who'd been assigned a dull security posting. She'd drawn her gun as she ran, and was firing before Avon hit the ground. Battle-fury narrowed her vision to this drab stretch of corridor, and the frightened, white faces before her. She fired,turned and fired again, and again. The survivors of her initial attack regained their wits, drew their weapons and fired back. She shot one, and saw out of the corner of her eye, another man aiming at her. There was no time to move, to duck, or do anything, except await death. Something moved under her feet, the man fired and she had an odd, out-of-time fraction of a second to feel the pain and the force of the blow slamming her head back onto her shoulders. Then there was nothing.

***

She sighed. It was over. Her headache was gone, and her certainties restored. She was glad to have learned that even amnesia did not prevent her from performing her duty and even more glad not to have killed Avon. Enough of her companions had died without adding one by her own hand.

"Cally?"

"Yes, Avon." Cally opened her eyes. She and Avon were alone in the med-unit, the lights turned down to approximate _Liberator's _night cycle. She was still in restraints, but by turning slowly, she was able to move far enough onto her side to see Avon. He was strapped down to his bed, too. "Are you all right?" she asked.__

__"I was about to ask you that. You were- restless, and I was..."_ _

__"Concerned?" Cally asked, just to see what Avon would say._ _

__"Disturbed. I had been trying to sleep myself."_ _

__"I am sorry, Avon. I should try to be more considerate. After all, you are more delicate than I."_ _

__Avon scowled. Then his expression softened. "Are you recovered?"_ _

__"Yes. My memory has returned. There is no need for me to be restrained any longer."_ _

__"Vila was here. If he ever returns from his foraging, he has orders to release you." The scowl came back. "But not me. Somehow, Blake doubts I would freely remain for the full therapy session the machines have mandated."_ _

__"Is he right?"_ _

__Avon's lips quirked upward. "There is that possibility. Even a broken time-piece is correct twice a day."_ _

__"Once, surely."_ _

__"On Earth, we divide a twenty-four hour day into twelve hours before noon, and then another twelve hours until midnight, so that every designated time during the day has its nighttime counterpart. I believe there was some superstitious bias against the number thirteen, so they simply started over again at mid-day to avoid using it."_ _

__"That is irrational, even for Earthmen," Cally opined._ _

__"If you live among us, you will have to become accustomed to irrationality. Particularly with Vila."_ _

__"I like him, too," Cally said._ _

__Avon ignored that remark._ _

__"Avon?"_ _

__"Yes?"_ _

__"Blake did not abandon us."_ _

__"This time."_ _

__"I trust Blake. You will learn to trust him."_ _

__Avon showed his teeth. "I don't think so."_ _

__Cally remembered Blake's concern over Avon and his attempts to befriend the other man. Blake was very persistent. And very persuasive. "Wait and see, Avon. It is early days, yet, is it not?"_ _


End file.
